i keep telling you secrets in my sleep

Month: December 2017

this was from my last christmas (with julien), the last time i ever decorated anything for christmas and i am hoping to decorate again in 2018.

well, finally it feels like winter and then some and give me stockings and blazers and hoodies and large coffees and reading in bed all day under my comforter and pumpkin soup and browsing bookstores for hours because it is raining/snowing so hard any day.

i have taken vacation days since 20th of december. i wanted to put the following as my out of office message but i thought better of it as i think many people have no sense of humor.

“hello i won’t be in the office as i have resolved to stay home which feels like heaven and this is where i will be till after new year’s. i don’t believe in santa clause but will be on the look out for him in between spending time with my family, getting my bum black and blue (from falling repeatedly while skiing) and trying to stay warm.

i will not be checking email as the email servers are frozen for sure because of the arctic front.

i will be stuck in the arctic tundra for a few days but gosh i will surely try and stay warm and hope you do the same.”

my desire to get my bum black & blue didn’t quite happen as my boy horus was critically sick due to anorexia and i spent christmas eve at the emergency room; my baby horus was devoted to my husband and every year this time in november (it’s jace’s birthday) gets dutifully depressed as he misses his papa and then he fasts. i watch over him and this year somehow i missed out his fasting and i’m happy to report i will be bringing him home tomorrow but he is coming home with a e-tube (feeding tube) till he is back up to his weight. all the doctors and nurses sang praises of him saying how sweet he is but this is true of all my kids. my kids get praised all the time that they are the sweetest on the planet. i’m a very proud mama.

i stayed indoors most of the time, binge watching all the shows which i have lined up and completed two books.

each morning before breakfast, i built a little fire in my fire place so we can have breakfast around the warm cozy fire. because of cold weather, all my kids and i are bundled into my bed with hot water bottles under our blankets and i am in a kitty heaven with my reading and catching up on all my shows.

for a few days i couldn’t figure out why i was feeling so cold and me not wearing pants didn’t help much so i bundled myself up with appropriate pants and a hoodie. and then i learned that i needed to bleed the radiators and i couldn’t open the cap and so i had electric heaters but it’s not warm enough but it’s ok as i absolutely love living in my naked skin, without make up, hair hanging loose and wearing my husband’s shirts and generally looking like a hobo most of the time. and as per my custom, i have taken hundreds of selfies. i’m relaxing and being good to myself and to my body, getting massages every other day and long baths.

christmas was lonely as usual and i do miss my parents and all the christmases past, when we bundled up and went caroling or preparing snacks for the carolers who visited. it was more christ centered event than what i see in usa. sadly in america christmas is very commercialized event but i love the way lights are strung up on the trees and the snow and the cold makes this such a lovely affair and i used to enjoy sitting out bundled up with my boy julien and later my husband with hot chocolates and sniffling and listening to john coltrane and his lovely clarinet.

so this christmas i spent the night bundled up and sat in my window dangling my feet out, listening to john coltrane, eating hachiyas and drinking hot chocolate, and talked to my babies about my plans and the importance of having goals and living life in the fullest and read them poems on love lost.

people always have me in group chats which is real pain in the derrier, but i keep quiet not to hurt their feelings, but most of these group chats have nothing of value and i spend every sunday clearing out the texts between chores. but recently i started getting these texts, from someone and i don’t know who she or he is. they are mostly sabbath greetings or bible verses encouraging me but he/she wants to remain anonymous. i’m suspecting that this person may be the guy my church elder wants me to date. aaron, is a nice bloke but i am not. apart from me loving god intensely and trying very hard to walk with him, i have many short comings. thankfully god still loves me in spite of my short comings and because of this if i were to remarry, i want someone who loves god, who is involved in church and who is of my faith. my husband was a very good man but he was an atheist or agnostic and it was the sad note in my otherwise happy marriage and my life is a soap opera even without my involvement whatsoever and i learnt in a hard way that everything we do have consequences and hence my life became and becomes very complicated. recently i was telling terry as he thought jace was jewish and i was like no he wasn’t and it’s complicated. there’s a spanish saying “god says take what you want (out of life), but pay the price”. i forgot this and i paid a hefty price when i married jace. still no regrets as he was a lovely man and he taught me quite a lot and once again, i must say, i was loved by two very lovely and beautiful men and probably i don’t deserve it but nevertheless, i was loved immensely.

lately i was thinking of relationships and if i really should even bother and i firmly lay the blame at my feet as i shouldn’t have fallen in love with terry, but you know, my life though very sad, was immensely beautiful when my boys were alive and i’m grateful for the time i had with them and i keep searching for that life and i want that life again. i’m sure i will get it back once i meet the right person and honestly, i can’t wait to meet him and get bundled up and listen to coltrane on frigid winters or read poems with him / to him and go walking on the streets shimmering with christmas lights.

2018 is going to be busy and interesting and full of new things. i just can feel it. i am excited and i have missed being this excited.

firstly i had a hard time telling amy adams and isla fisher apart and i was completely mesmerized with the concept of the story. it’s a brilliant movie. it’s different and i love how the story keeps on develoing through it’s hidden messages. it feels like you are actually reading a literature. not style over substance as some have claimed (though every frame is gorgeous), nocturnal animals is a deeply unsettling portrait of a seemingly immaculate life fractured by festering regrets.

and the opening scene is so enchanting, with it’s haunting music which squeezes your heart ever so gently

i watched gillian flynn’s “dark places” a movie adaptation of the book with the same title and i was very impressed and so i went and read the book gone, girl and recently i watched “gone girl” a film adaptation of the book. i usually don’t watch movies after reading a book, but this was superbly done and i’m glad i’ve actually watched it.

great quote from the film : i’m the cunt you married. the only time you liked yourself was when you were trying to be someone this cunt might like. i’m not a quitter, i’m that cunt. i killed for you. who else can say that? you think you’d be happy with a nice midwestern girl? no way, baby. i’m it.

and this is probably my favorite rant in literature

men always say that as the defining compliment, don’t they? she’s a cool girl. being the cool girl means i am a hot, brilliant, funny woman who adores football, poker, dirty jokes, and burping, who plays video games, drinks cheap beer, loves threesomes and anal sex, and jams hot dogs and hamburgers into her mouth like she’s hosting the world’s biggest culinary gang bang while somehow maintaining a size 2, because cool girls are above all hot. hot and understanding. cool girls never get angry; they only smile in a chagrined, loving manner and let their men do whatever they want. go ahead, shit on me, i don’t mind, i’m the cool girl.

men actually think this girl exists. maybe they’re fooled because so many women are willing to pretend to be this girl. for a long time cool girl offended me. i used to see men – friends, coworkers, strangers – giddy over these awful pretender women, and i’d want to sit these men down and calmly say: you are not dating a woman, you are dating a woman who has watched too many movies written by socially awkward men who’d like to believe that this kind of woman exists and might kiss them. i’d want to grab the poor guy by his lapels or messenger bag and say: the bitch doesn’t really love chili dogs that much – no one loves chili dogs that much! and the cool girls are even more pathetic: they’re not even pretending to be the woman they want to be, they’re pretending to be the woman a man wants them to be. oh, and if you’re not a cool girl, i beg you not to believe that your man doesn’t want the cool girl. it may be a slightly different version – maybe he’s a vegetarian, so cool girl loves seitan and is great with dogs; or maybe he’s a hipster artist, so cool girl is a tattooed, bespectacled nerd who loves comics. there are variations to the window dressing, but believe me, he wants cool girl, who is basically the girl who likes every fucking thing he likes and doesn’t ever complain. (how do you know you’re not cool girl? because he says things like: “i like strong women.” if he says that to you, he will at some point fuck someone else. because “i like strong women” is code for “i hate strong women.”)

— gillian flynn, gone girl

silence

with andrew garfield and adam driver this film some how resonated with me as i always have struggled and still struggling with the basic question “how strong am i in my faith”… here’s a movie about two portuguese priests who go over to japan and the plight of japanese christians in a predominantly buddhist country. i still don’t have an answer as to would i still confess my relationship with jesus under the threat of death because theoretically speaking it’s easy but reality can be quite different. for this reason alone i struggled a lot while watching the movie.

predestination

clearly a sci-fi movie on a different level and with only three actors, it’s superb and the premise is quite fascinating.

all in all, i must confess, i have outdone myself in picking films which were definitely worth my time !! thank you amazon prime and netflix !

sitting on the edge of the bed and contemplating on life in general and all the corners we turn and rough roads we travel on. all happy families are happy alike and unhappy families are unhappy in their own unique way (i’m quoting it from the book “the dinner” which is my current read) i’m a feminist and would love to castrate all men and then i remember the pleasure of sex and the need for a penis. toys, including the most expensive ones, are a great let down. and i have these urges which needed to seeing to on a regular basis. at the back of my mind, i know i should take up a lover soon as i need to fuck properly and as i said, sex toys are a huge let down. and i still think maybe we should castrate all dumb people including females.

coming back to the point, was at my vet’s today and the guy there, was moping about and i asked him what’s wrong and he told me he can’t see his daughter this christmas as his ex put a restriction order or something on him citing sexual abuse just because his 9 year old wrote a letter to a boy in her class saying she may be pregnant. now this guy is a general, all american jackass who preens around like he is a god’s gift to women folk and most of the time, i feel like slapping him, but i have seen him with his daughter and he ain’t the type and i would have hard time believing it. whenever i was at the vet’s, i saw him seating little alicia in front of one of the computer for her to play games, with a candy or a juice box and this blonde kid and i would chat about various things as she keeps playing her games on the computer. the world has gone rogue and it’s a good thing i don’t have kids as i would have been a nervous wreck or a she-hulk squishing anyone and everyone who dares to look at my babies. all this because of the evilness of humans. as i said, i am a feminist and i am all for women’s rights and all that jazzy stuff, but now a days things have gone too far in the name of rights, civil or otherwise, whether it’s race issues or sexual harassment or what not. which completely nauseates me. everybody giggles over and over again when racial slurs or sexual harassment happen on movies, or tv but in reality, this is life imitating after such shows ! anyway, there’s a huge rant brewing up on all this goddamn #metoo movement and i have this urge to slap someone and i am not sure who i should slap.

this month was extraordinary in which i branded myself unlovable and closed my heart to my boy and shut my goddamn blog down, but then i forgot that i have approx. 25k followers on one of the social media and that they love reading my stuff; i was inundated with emails asking for permission, and needless to say i made my blog public again as it became a painful chore and i’m a lazy person to begin with.

my company had a huge holiday party & i was there to take care of stuff and i had no intention of mingling or chatting or networking with people, but i was introduced to this one executive by sheer chance and he and i said some amicable things and all of sudden it became an opportunity to grow within the company and i immediately designated him (and i told him as well) as my mentor no. 2 and he advised me to take some courses and he asked me to give him my resume so he can forward to the right parties. i related this to my mentor, tim, and he and i started outlining my courses. i told him that i would like to do another degree but refuse to put in 180 credits (for a bs) and he said i would like to see you try….. lol but for me it seems such a waste because i have two masters already along with two bachelors and in four majors.

and then tim & i got into this huge episode involving persimmons thesis and an exploding hachiya in my purse as i love over ripe hachiyas.

there’s a little writing board in my cubicle and tim wrote, “it’s all our fault”. since day one, he kept telling me this and it’s like a private joke between us. last week my boss told me that as a feedback, she was told that i take things personal and get offended and it kind of took me by surprise and my temper rose and i became evil for an instant but i told her that their perception may be correct and probably depends on the context and that she should only pay attention to what tim says about me and no one else because frankly speaking, everyone else can go and fuck themselves and i could care less about what others think of me and that it only matters to me what she and tim think of me. after all, i have dealt with most powerful men in my life and gained their respect. but we put off this conversation for a future day in january, 2018 when we go out to eat where i will dissect out the department in detail as she wants my feedback.

i have taken detours and side steps to avoid terry, but ended up on his office door step and he looked like a lamb or a deer with his eyes caught in the headlights and he chatted about christmas and what i believe and i really don’t mind him asking me about my values or my life but general manners dictate i should ask him the same, but i really don’t want to know about his life as it makes me feel empty and broken all over again. i mean, what is the point, i can’t share his life & personally i think he should get married, so i can move on as married men are off limits & what is he waiting for any way ? goddamn ! it gave me a huge pleasure to tell him “freddie krueger” delivers the presents under the christmas tree when he said (and god i hope he was joking) he believes in santa or else who delivers his presents ? and i can tell he wasn’t expecting me to say that. haha !

things are getting to normal for me again and i’m relatively ok. have cut my arms and walked around with full sleeves to hide the scars. and the rest of the year, i have taken off so i can selfcare and catch up with myself and say hello to myself and see how i’m doing.

i reset and revisited my goals. i’m looking forward to become healthy and get my ballet body back and my regular gym visits are already showing results and my boobs are perky even without the bra and i am running around with no bra now a days and my midsection is actually melting (thank heavens i won’t die as a half a cow) as i usually look like a beached whale because of my steroids and if i don’t put in time at the gym.

goal 2 would be to gain knowledge in finance and master the same and pave way towards my new career.

goal 3 would be to clear out my house of all things which remind me of my past.

goal 4 and this is the hard one. for a while now, i wanted to write two letters and i haven’t so far. one to my son who i lost. christian who jace and i conceived. and the other letter to the child julien and i dreamed of having and the baby girl whose name julien picked out. noélie. julien and i never conceived a child. but i kept going back to her name. i feel like it is important somehow. it keeps popping up in my mind at random times of the day. i feel like i need to tell you (terry) this. but why bring that up when it’s not important ? when it makes no difference ? we aren’t a we. but in the back of my mind, there they are. always.

optional goal would be to find a french lover or two or three and why not ? lol

the sunbeams sparkled prettily in your eyes when words came out as whispers from my curled lips with the softness of velvety wine. “you may kiss me when the light is right”, i breathed and i blushed heavily. it may be winter air pinching me pink or it may be that i was fully drunk in the sweet liquid you were soaked in as i fell in love. you breathed out my name into the air scenting it delicately and from then on every touch became a divine secret. my giggles took a silver bell tone tinkling with every breeze. you brushed my hair as though they are like a silken whisper. you are still a familiar unknown to me; your texture, tastes and touches i can’t identify; so vivid, so familiar, so out of this earth; savoring your splendor in the glow of the stars cast over our skins; our colors have bled and blended to create a new hue. we twine around each other without breaking. i’m comfortable. you are the exotic tastes, smells and tingles. you are the colors, sounds and shadows. your heartbeats are oceans whispering my name and i dream of seashells. i still find myself aching for those hues, whispers and time hasn’t faded that memory or that familiarity.

at what point loneliness morphs into something that exists as something bearable ? i find myself missing you, missing your conversations, missing our moments; miss the curl of your tongue and the press of your teeth into my flesh; miss the way my soul sways to your smiles as your smiles wash over me affectionately; so fluid, so subtle and so mesmerizing. you should know that i can never bring myself to ecstasy the way you would; miss you, miss you , miss you a lot, a lot, lover ! please please come back ! melt with me one more time ! there’s always space for you in my heart, between my thighs, beneath my finger-nails, atop my tongue and inside my eyelids. i breathe your name into the dark sky, pleading with the stars to carry my secrets and my tears to god.

i know none of this will translate into reality and i don’t mean for my words to be profound or planned or poetic. it’s just that i tucked you away in every atom of my body for times i need to feel alive; it’s just that i’m captivated and alas, i’m nothing more than a shadow thirsting to kiss you once more; it’s just that i still can’t remember my dreams. it’s just that tonight, i will bundle up all of the pain that exists inside of me which tugs at my heart’s skin and knead it until i’ve created something beautiful.

time is watching on and smiling as my tiny heart aches and aches and aches….

it’s a rainy sunday today and i’m up earlier than usual. why is it when i don’t have to wake up by a certain time, i wake up anyway even without an alarm and am also as wide eyed as possible and completely awake. come monday this feeling changes. i’ll be hitting the snooze like several hundred times and i’d get up at the very last second of the point of no return. i stayed in bed as long as i could, pillow over my face to block out any hint of sunrise (it was around 4 a.m.) and was thinking of everything. i ruminate on my conversations of the past days and i analyze to make sure i got things right and i haven’t imagining.

it’s 4 a.m. and i want to fall asleep to the cleansing rain. i’m listening to the light tip tip tip sounds when the raindrops were hitting my window pane. i’m listening to the quiet between the rainfall and i can’t help wondering, what do i like more; the silence between the rain or the sounds of the rain itself. it’s so wonderful and i’m imagining myself somewhere in a magical mysterious land, where everything is so serene and peaceful and all i could hear is the gentle breeze and take in the grassy sceneries and no humans in sight. the inbetween silence is growing wider and i think rain is dwindling away and it’s like this negative space i’m sliding into; the suburbia gives the illusion of a quiet suburbia when it cloaks itself with night but it screams itself into a city in the morning.

for the past few days it’s been super cold and windy and all of the city of philadelphia clung to my body an inch thick and no matter how much i bathe, it won’t come off.

i have an intelligent brain and heart, and i know what it means to live. everything else has been a wonderful, indulgent embellishment. i have the deepest affection for intellectual conversations. the ability to just sit and talk philosophically, logically about things i care and cherish; life, love, death, kittens, anything or about everything. little complexities of life which paint with a palette of glorious colors. i was in love with a boy once; he played his piano for me. told me to close my eyes when he played and to tell him what i felt or what color i saw. i lied to him as i didn’t see any colors lol. i spent wee hours of the second day of a new year, under the moon, with him, huddled in comforters, thinking i’ve all the time in the world, and everything around us slowed down, bound by no obligation, to speak without regret or fear of consequence. to talk for hours and about what’s really important in life. later that year, i lost him.

i became mute. people around me think i’m shy and i want to shake them hard and tell them no i’m not. i’ve been silent for a long time but i’m full of everything and anything and i’m brimming over with so many things to say but i forgot how to say it. i have always been dependent on my loneliness & my sadness which became utter depression when he died. how hollow i felt ! always just about six feet under the ground and feeling dead in my skin. and i kept thinking and relying on the seasons to tell me what to feel and i acted accordingly. i tried to be bubbly in spring, utterly naked with the falling of autumn leaves, and dutifully depressed during cold, grey winters.

i haven’t clicked my shoes three times and called out ‘there is no place like home’ but god has been good and everything turned out ok. i’m reviewing my past and when i looked back at her, i still think she’s a stranger, immature and sad. she looked like a photo of someone i once knew but am trying to remember.

in a few minutes i’ve to get out of my bed & get myself into the gym. it’s very easy for me to get lost into my solitude and in the labyrinths of my ribs. i like cuddling my soft kittens as a form of assurance. cats are like the furry version of balls of sunshine to play with on a dank drizzly day like this. well, bonjour !

update: later in the day, i watched patriots and steelers and wow, what a game !! patriots are my boys and i am thrilled for them and the upcoming superbowl !

i kept crawling on the edges and hiding in the curtains for so long, and i keep laughing. it’s impossible to classify how many different kinds of laughter there are, but sometimes you mean and sometimes you laugh and you don’t mean and then there’s the ones you feel and the one’s you don’t. on my birthdays i laugh as hard as one should laugh on that day as that is such a monstrous joke. decades worth of yelling and screaming, growing and running, feeling and tears. here i am once again lying on my stomach on my red (egyptian) cotton bed sheets, and laughing like i was happy. like i was a while ago and now what seems like another life.

this may be the low or it may be the calm before (or was it after ?) the storm. the storm of happiness. the storm of growth. the storm of love. i found you and you made me whole, and you fixed the cracks in my heart, and stimulated my brain into happiness. very few made me wonder how on earth i’d ever felt that empty, that scared, that completely alone. there was more joy and feeling behind my laughter than i’d ever known possible. i felt fixed and i felt healed and i felt whole. instead of wondering what i was missing, i wondered how i had gotten so lucky. things i wanted to happen started happening, and the concept was so foreign that i felt like it wasn’t possible. floating in a sea of blue eyes, smiles, and glances, of shared ideas and shared moments, and way more than one too many coincidences.

i never believed in fate before, and i shouldn’t have wanted to after i met you. this is love, but some people call it fooling yourself, and it was introduced to me by you. i shook its hand, but nothing further. you touched my hand, but nothing more. i let you touch my heart, but that’s on me, not you. apparently all those fireworks i saw were for my eyes only, or you were just hiding your eyes. call it destiny, fate, old-fashioned coincidence, or look up a study pertaining to why human beings make something out of nothing. and i thought there is hope, but i know it’s one-sided.

the funny thing about healing is that it comes from within our own, singular minds. we may think we need other people to save us, but i know now that’s all just smoke and mirrors. we believe what we feel to be true. but truth has no interest in making us feel whole. truth takes us and breaks us, fragments our hearts, destructs the careful realities we have constructed in our minds to make us happy. my thoughts can save me but my thoughts can kill me as well. truth and belief are no friend of each other when we are talking about peace of mind. believe what i can while i can, because here i am again, lying in bed and i haven’t been happy in months.

we don’t need other people to make us feel whole, but we believe that we need other people to make us feel whole. and that’s because i am still human

today is the first snow of winter 2017 and it’s snowing softly… it’s such a pleasure for me to see the snow fall. it’s like the whole damn city is getting washed of all it’s dirt and sins.

i keep thinking i need to open up the windows and let the change in and sweep out my past and all the memories.

now a days i am sleeping in odd angles on my bed because of my kids who are now in my bed. may be i should have gotten a california king bed.

my mood – “everything is blooming most recklessly; it it were voices instead of colours, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night – rilke”

it has been hard lately battling with myself and wanting an ordinary life and wanting someone to call my own. to come home to and to rest my head against his shoulder. i keep dreaming silly dreams like holding hands and walking around the streets lit with christmas lights.

you know how sometimes you bump into someone and you think they are really great ? you find it hard to sleep because thoughts of him keeps you awake and you spend a couple of weeks trying to find out all the little details, complicated conversations that seem to be opening up the way for something good.

things are good. but deep down, the probability of something so abstract actually happening seems a little absurd and so surreal. in spite of me keeping my heart checked, i keep dreaming about all these little things to do with him and the chances of these little wishes and dreams happening are slim to none, but i believe in the potential of my dream and so none of the realities matter.

i’ve been trying not to hold all of this against you, taking my time & biting my tongue, closing my eyes early, trying to put it all into perspective. it’s easy to place blame where it doesn’t belong, swollen with anger reflecting things i can’t wrap my fists around. the long drives i take at night and managing to pick a decent soundtrack of songs, i was so hushed keeping my eyes peeled for the reflection of deer eyes. but these days, i’m exhausted by the silences, all these sentences too jumbled to make sense, pulling them out of the patterns in my skin. there are too many risks i take without any understand of where i am going, what i am working towards, they keep tugging on every part of me.

i have swooned and i’m swooning and placed all bets on a losing (already lost) dream. and when all these dreams of mine come to a crashing halt, it shouldn’t really hurt or sting or feel like a sucker punch, because i knew it was coming.

but it does, and i don’t want to admit this but i have placed all my hopes in the wrong basket and i forgot to hide them before it was too late.

they are actually crêpes but persimmons and crêpes didn’t rhyme well… 😊

grateful for the colors i fill my life with. it’s important for me to cultivate a safe home for myself. last weekend, for an empty sunday afternoon, i decided i would sweep up my wooden floors and open up the windows (to let the crisp cold air in). i just had a good breakfast a home-made crêpe and a hachiya persimmon…… yes ! a hachiya !

last week after work i hopped on an acela and went to new york, because my friend came to nyc from san fran for a conference and of course, we have to meet and when i arrived at the penn station, she met me with a hachiya persimmon and it made me giddy with happiness. hang on to your friends who meet you at a railway station with a persimmon ! we went to east village and roamed around holding hands and i found some hachiya persimmons and bought them… i am admiring my bounty as we speak !

she was put in a days inn hotel by some mistake and she and i giggled so much over this and i wanted to share this with everyone on facebook and she threatened me that if i did this, she will tell our network of friends about my love for terry…

she and i decided we would color our hairs with purples and so we bought the colors and dyed our hairs but as we have black hair (and we should have bleached our hairs first) it kind of gave a hint of color but not drastically and now whenever i wash my hair it bleeds purple. i’m convinced my work gym people will throw me out as i keep purpling their towels…

i’ve decided i will work out at the gym (at work) as increasingly i am not finding time to go to my gym after i get home from work, as jack decides not to as he was feeling lazy or as my kids are all having sniffles i’m running around hosptial or pet store and i have oodles of time at work and i am not the one who sits and twiddles thumbs and so i started going to the gym and started working out with the weights and stuff and my lungs are still problematic which makes me get bloated on and off depending on my lungs, but i think i need to just bite the bullet and work out even when i am unable to breathe.

and i usually warm up on the treadmill to get the target heart rate before i hit the weights, and i usually wipe down the equipment before and after using them as i am germaphobe and one time, one of the superiors from my department was there on an elliptical opposite to me and when he was done he proceeded to wipe down the entire machine and i wanted laugh so hard, i mean, men just are so full of y chromosome… !

this week’s accomplishments included me making 14,000 steps and i have found a co-relation between the heart rate and racking up the steps. i’ve this habit of salsa dancing if i am not tired enough and so the other night i was happily dancing and i forgot to remove my fitbit and in half hour i racked up 2000 steps and when i achieved my goal of 14,000 steps fitibit threw out some fireworks… so yay !

jack’s daughter (yes he is a bisexual and now gay and married to a guy) got her first period and a very panicky jack called me and i went to the drug store to get some cups as liz wanted a menstrual cup and i am not really fond them myself but i taught her how to use them and i get to be a mum for a whole hour and i was quite please with this.

i went to dinner with the italian and he talked about how he’s listening to christmas songs and talked about christmas the whole time and when he asked if we can meet again, i said no. and no, this time it’s not about terry at all. his conversation had no substance and he actually isn’t currently reading any books (remember, he said he reads books ! he lied, the bastard). and also, i found the italian’s voice is super annoying and i can’t deal with that. i need a man who has a sexy voice which would make me swoon. like when i talk to him on the phone, i shouldn’t be trying to hang up… 😊

funny story; my voice on the phone is quite sexy (i am not sure about it now as i sound stuffed up) and i know this for a fact because many people have said this (men) and my aunt one time called me to talk about something and she was like you should tone down the sexiness in your voice… umm, i wasn’t trying to be sexy ? my husband used to tease me saying i should become one of the 900 persons, you know who talk sex to people on the phone. one time i said it’s not enough to have a sexy voice, one should also say sexy things like take off your panties and shit like that and i would just read some scientific article and men don’t pay to hear me read a scientific journal about alzheimer’s and my boy went, i would pay you even if you read me the phone book… lol and yeah, well, i am not saying that i’m a prude and actually it’s quite the opposite as i am quite a slut in bed but i don’t end up bedding anyone i am not in love with so….

my kitty boy zazie is now fully upgraded to be one of my kids ie utterly spoiled and moody and bratish. his name evolved from zach to z to zz and to zazie…. zazie is one of the french pop singers and z fell in love with her songs and he wags his tail to her songs.

it’s been quite a handful of days these days and i can’t explain to you, even if i tried, that i traveled a distance in reasons beyond needing a selfish conclusion to this murky feeling i had been swimming in for the past few months. there is a fate which drew us together, connecting us despite distance and time. i let you into my life without complaint, allowed myself to be more vulnerable than ever before, showed you my world and mistakes, hoped to allow you to do the same. i walked into something i knew would end with a truth that would leave me unable to hold onto something anymore, the consequences of falling in love with someone when the burden i’m carrying is too heavy and the result of the right person in the wrong circumstances;

when i saw you yesterday after you returned, you looked so tired and old and i wanted to smooth those creases away and kiss your tired eyes and hold you close to my heart and i wanted to care but wouldn’t because of the things tugging against us. i wondered how long a person can keep quietly caring, silently praying with pleas of desperate hope to fates unknown, the foolish hopeful thoughts we move towards fearlessly.

hi… i decided i am going to make my blog private (from dec. 10) and that means if you want to continue to read my writings, you would need permission from me.

with a heavy heart i have to do this. because i am missing him more than i should and i keep swallowing the lump in my throat and the broken heart in my chest and the knot in my stomach.

maybe this is what it’s all about. you love a person for as long as you possibly can, until you run out of love. you love them even when they don’t love you. and then you can leave, as quietly as you came, knowing that you gave all you had, knowing that you couldn’t have been any more than what you were and that it was pure, that it was full and that you were honest with it all. goddamn, love is beautiful but quite a torture when it’s one sided.

well, i didn’t run out of love but i decided it’s best if i said my goodbyes. so here i am leaving and saying goodbye and shutting the door firmly on any hopes i have.

i miss you today and i will keep missing you, and the internal dialogue kept crawling like acid up the back of my throat. but i’ll keep quiet, leaving the burning words to settle some place until they fizzled and faded. and i am making my blog private.

i don’t know how this works as i was told if you have a wordpress account already you may send me a note to request access and i am not sure how it works, if you are already following me but please jot down this email in case something doesn’t work right to contact me at heavyheavyboots0317@gmail.com

thank you for reading the bits and pieces of my life so far and after this week, when my blog goes private, i’d love it if you joined along, but don’t be surprised if it is heavy and sad or full of drake lyrics and photos of me lying very flat on the floor or the backyard or photos of me and my kitties…. what can i say, somethings never change, right ?

i write stories to survive… i write stories to remember that i am still alive. this year is weird. this year is being scared and being brave. a few years ago, when i found myself all alone, i thought it was like the whole universe was shaking its fists at me, at us (my kids and me). sometimes i forget about the times silence filled up the house, and sometimes i forget about the nights i didn’t sleep and sometimes i forget about my shaky legs carrying me around from one empty room to another empty room trying to find comfort.

people probably are under the impression that i walk around with these things tucked in my pockets, and that i wake to my sadness and greet them in the morning; but i think my grief, and sorrow has a way of hiding themselves in the gaps of my bones, living under my skin like a itch that doesn’t go away and they only rears their head now and then.

there are other things hiding there as well…. things i don’t talk about, because when you give them words, you give them weight and they are already heavy enough on the nape of my neck pushing me down into the earth. i don’t need to share the weight. and i’m not afraid of them, but they are unnecessary, unerasable reminders on the path behind me. i am not claiming i won’t look back. but i’m trying to not let the things from my past falter my steps forward. there are a lot of things i could tell you about.

like all those sliced up thighs and thin red lines on my wrists and the time the only boy i ever loved telling me to turn around and never look back. there are a lot of things i could tell you about, you know ? my friend screaming at me to stop me doing something stupid and the night at the hospital i sat next to julien knowing that it was the last chance to say goodbye.

but i don’t think it’s something that i’ve got to do because those stories are just stories and their effect has already been filled. i am what i am but i am filling into the details and i am still learning. like how i’m realizing how there’s something attractive in distance, to me. there’s something harrowing and beautiful about getting in the car and just going. which is what i do. often. and, one day, what i think i’ll do. i think, because of the ways that changed me, running as far away from things as possible and holding them at arms length feels right, even if it stifles the way my eyes shine, and the way i am trying, ceaselessly, to bridge all of these gaps and stitch up these miles. it’s not just about love. it’s about owning up to all of the things that i feel, which is something i am bad at and which makes my lips stutter and my hands shake.

so the things i’m learning to be brave about? they’re not about the suicides or the hasty goodbyes or leaving a home i thought i knew. and not about all those things that people shoot me sideways glances about. it’s about the feelings i tucked inside my chest and didn’t tell anybody about–not because i was ashamed but because i didn’t think they were relevant or that anyone cared.

so i’m growing up and still learning, and i’m getting to the place where words are always burning that the tips of my tongue. it feels a little uncomfortable, but how else am i supposed to deal? i’m gonna find a way to let them go. and it’s not brave in a “baring your soul for the world to judge” type way. it’s brave in a “finally becoming comfortable with being who you are and not letting anyone, namely yourself, tell you that there isn’t worth in that.”

i have been trying to be brave for a few years now and i do this over and over again every december… i have a little post it note on my bathroom mirror which says “become committed to being scared and being braver” and i’m gonna start living by it, or i’m going to be doomed to a life of sidelining myself, and only ever being brave for other people.

so i’m showing up here again with my heart on my sleeve and a handful of things i want to tell myself and to let go. i hope i’m ready to listen, i hope i’m ready to believe. it’s not a process, it’s not a step-by-step program. it starts the second i want it to, the second i step up, and that second, for me, is right here. right now.